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Kael made his way to Rogue's private booth. The security detail, recognizing the man who made Arasaka flinch, didn't even check his credentials before pulling the door open.
Inside, Rogue wasn't alone. A woman with bronze skin and dark hair styled in small dreadlocks sat across from her. She wore a black leather jacket and blue jeans tucked into sturdy boots. She wasn't delicate or fair like the "dolls" in Night City, but she possessed a rugged, wild charm that radiated from her very marrow.
"Let me introduce you. This is Panam Palmer," Rogue said, gesturing with her glass. "She's from the Badlands. Her driving is top-tier. If you have errand work in the wastes, she's your girl."
"Since the Queen herself is making the referral, let's exchange contact info," Kael said, sizing up Panam.
Panam didn't bother with pleasantries. She drained her glass in one gulp and accepted Kael's friend request. "So you're BT? I've heard the name. The Raffen Shiv are terrified of you. I can't tell just by looking that you have that kind of torque."
Panam's social skills were blunt, bordering on unpleasant, but Kael found it refreshing. "You'll have a chance to see it for yourself," he shrugged.
"Looking forward to it," Panam said, picking up her jacket and leaving the booth.
"She ran away from the Aldecaldos," Rogue explained once she was gone. "Nomads aren't well-received in this city. She needed a break."
"It's fine," Kael said, pouring himself a glass of Rogue's high-end liquor. "I happen to need connections in the Badlands. She'll do."
Kael hadn't even made it back to Maine's booth when his neural link pinged. It was Jackie Wells. The background noise on the line was a symphony of heavy machine-gun fire and screeching tires.
"Uh, Kael? I've run into a bit of... technical friction."
"Go on, Jackie. What kind of mess did you step in?" Kael asked, checking the GPS coordinates.
"Listen, in Heywood, I'm known as an honest guy! Trouble found me," Jackie argued. He'd been transporting a sensitive payload when the Raffen Shiv caught his tail and ambushed him. Fortunately, his car—modified by Delamain—had armor plating thick enough to ignore most small-arms fire, but the ambushers were persistent.
"I'll have that on your epitaph," Kael joked. "Any last words? I'll make sure Misty gets the life insurance."
"If you don't come save me, I'll send the data-logs from your last visit to Clouds to Lucy," Jackie countered, pulling out his ultimate trump card.
"Are you kidding?! I treat you like a brother and you're playing mind games? As if you didn't go yourself!"
"I was just playing Flying Chess with the girls, Kael. My love for Misty is pure. I'm not like you."
Kael disconnected the link, a smirk playing on his lips. He said goodbye to Maine and the others. As he walked out of the Afterlife, he spotted Panam leaning against a corner, nursing a drink.
"Panam, are you free?"
"Always," she replied, her eyes lighting up. She was currently in the "not sure where my next meal is coming from" phase of her Night City stay.
"I need a delivery to the Badlands."
"What am I delivering?"
"Me."
Kael climbed into the passenger seat of Panam's rugged, scavenged off-road vehicle. It looked like a collection of scrap metal held together by sheer willpower and desert engineering.
"Nice car," Kael noted politely.
"It works," Panam replied, hiding a small smile of pride. "Where to?"
Kael sent Jackie's location and a transfer of five thousand eddies.
"Damn! Five thousand?" Panam's eyes widened. "Usually, the rate is a thousand."
"The rest is a tip," Kael said. Panam immediately looked suspicious.
"I'm warning you, pretty boy, don't get any funny ideas."
"You're overthinking it, Panam. I like my women delicate. You're a bit too... structural for me. But we can be friends."
Panam's mouth twitched. She wasn't sure if she should be relieved or insulted, but she slammed the car into gear and hit the gas. Her driving was violent and efficient, a "G-force" test that Kael passed with ease, much to her secret disappointment.
In the sandy wilderness, Jackie had managed to shake the initial pursuit by hiding in a tribal camp, thanks to V's guidance.
"Those lunatics," Jackie cursed, looking at the bullet-pocked surface of his beloved car. He'd just waxed it the day before.
"When is your guy getting here?" V asked, checking the magazine on her rifle. "The Raffen won't stay confused for long."
"Kael is on his way," Jackie said calmly. He reached into the backseat and picked up a small, bristling kitten. "Relax, little guy. We're safe."
He'd bought the rare pet through Rogue as a gift for Misty, following Kael's advice to get her a companion for when he was out on jobs.
Outside the camp, Nash, a brutal leader of the Raffen Shiv, was demoting his failed subordinates to "Car Slaves"—stripping them of their gear and pride. He was furious that a single target had escaped his encirclement.
"It'll be dark soon," Nash ordered. "He'll try to run under the cover of night. Watch every route to Night City."
Inside the car, Jackie had reclined his seat and was taking a nap with the kitten. He had zero intention of moving. He'd called for the "Calculating Survivor," after all. Why bother driving when the heavy artillery was on its way?
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